


More to the Story

by 9_of_Clubs



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Banter, Lecturer Hannibal, M/M, Sassy Will, Younger Will, heat - Freeform, public makeout
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 14:40:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2113752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/9_of_Clubs/pseuds/9_of_Clubs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for <a href="http://wiith-my-hands.tumblr.com/">wiith-my-hands </a> </p><p>Prompt: Younger Will visits the city for the first time to attend a conference when he takes a break for an afternoon in the park. He’s reviewing a case file when the sun gets to be too much and he takes off his shirt, figuring no one knows him and who would think anything of it on such a hot day in such a crowded place. But Hannibal notices. He, too, is attending the conference as a speaker when he spots Will in his lecture. He follows Will that afternoon, intrigued by his questions during the session, intending to kill him, but finding himself pulled instead by much different desires.</p><p>Kind of a departure from my usual style in a really fun way! :)<br/>--<br/>"There’s a hand on his hip now, skirting across the top of his jeans, and they are really going to get kicked out, aren’t they? Can you get kicked out of Central Park?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	More to the Story

**Author's Note:**

  * For [solamentenic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/solamentenic/gifts).



> Part of the [Hannibal Artist Collective Charity Auction](http://hannibal-acca.tumblr.com/) \- they have permission to post this work anywhere!
> 
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He’s not too truthfully sure how he got here, to be perfectly honest, Doctor Lecter’s fingers creeping up the naked curves of his spine, their bodies pressing together on the plane of grass, curling heat clinging to their bodies as they push against each other. 

But he blames the shirt though, the shirt and his stupid mouth, which is now making some fairly unseemly noises against the other’s tongue. But if it hadn’t been so damn hot in this city to begin with, if he hadn’t already been at the edge of his rope from answering inane questions at the conference, none of which, he could add, had a thing to do with his research, well, it’s not his fault anyway. 

He should probably include more information than that, not that anyone cares, they’re probably all in it for the kissing anyway. And they should be, it’s some tremendous kissing. Not that he has a huge portfolio of kisses to compare it too, Megan against the bleachers, John behind the animal shelter, no one since after college, but it’s been enough to shut even his brain up, and that’s saying something. If you know his brain...Do you? 

A soft tongue creeping against his lips, fingers scratching up the back of his spine, sweat pooling, how Hannibal, probably he can call him that now, is still dressed in that garish plaid and not melting, a nip into his lips as though the other can hear his thoughts, he has no idea. And that’s what he was saying, anyway, hot, it had been hot, and there had been people and a lot of stupid questions. Oh, he hasn’t settled down yet? And what a shame about the entrance exam, huh? Something creeping across his lips that he’s pretty sure was a grimace, that made people wince and turn away, except the aforementioned Hannibal, who is still doing something obscene with his tongue, and he bit Will, didn’t he? He bites him back. Except Hannibal, who smirked at him, the same hum of amusement that had clung around him as when Will had interrupted his, about average, maybe a little more interesting than normal, talk. 

But it’s not like he made the Doctor say the Chesapeake Ripper was clearly a psychopath. Which, in case anyone is wondering, is a completely unhelpful way of profiling him and would only send everyone on a wild goose chase... Hannibal probably hadn’t known though, a commonplace mistake. But there hadn’t been any offense at the interruption, just something like mockery, and Will had glared, but only for a moment because he really hates eye contact, and the tension of that, and then those stupid questions and the smirk again, so he’d left. 

There’s a hand on his hip now, skirting across the top of his jeans, and they are really going to get kicked out, aren’t they? Can you get kicked out of Central Park?

But on top of the claustrophobic conference, he had to find himself in a claustrophobic city, in the middle of goddamn summer, and it gets hot in Virginia, it does, but he’s hot by himself, in his little house, with the dogs around, not hot, annoyed, in a sea of milling people, too close, too many of them, all pressing against him, hands, fingers, and he has to look up to avoid them, personalities pushing against his mind unceasingly. Really not his favorite.

After all that, when he’d finally got to the park, pulling out a file he’s most definitely not supposed to have, one thing led to another and mindlessly, he’d taken off his shirt. Not offensive, not that he cares, but of course, out of the blue, Doctor Lecter, and he’d been kind of flustered, a little embarrassed, mostly more annoyed than anything at the necessity of continued speech. Not flustered anymore, update, finally worked the tie off the other’s body, undoing some of those buttoned up buttons, reaching for the skin beneath, almost surprised to find it, he’d somewhat suspected the man was made of plaid. 

Annoyed and maybe dismissive, and then what? It’s hard to remember the facts exactly, maybe he just had too many different people in his brain, maybe he just needed a good wipe of his thoughts, maybe Hannibal had been kind of hot, even if he couldn’t tell a psychopath from something much more nuanced when he saw one. But Will can’t really afford to be picky with these things, can he? Anyway, he’d sat down even though Will had told him to go, more or less, folded Will’s shirt, even, tried to look at the files, and god, did he imply _Will_ was rude? And somehow ended up far too close, that glittering interest in his eyes, he’d only snuck a glance, but he could sense the other found him fascinating from a mile away, so he figured he may as well get something out of it too and they’d kissed. He’s still not sure the other is interesting at all, minus the plaid, and the inhuman ability to withstand high temperatures, the air twining heavy along their bodies, but, he’s not entirely sure he wouldn’t do this again either. Maybe not in a park next time, maybe somewhere with doors, maybe. A hand brushes the front of his pants and his hips buck, pulling Hannibal in closer, shifting to push him back, straddle him against the bark of a tree. 

He’s not really sure it’s anyone’s business to still be watching this, though, he can’t really prevent it, they are out in the open, after all. But there’s not really more to the story than that, probably won’t be, Hannibal doesn’t seem the type to need a scruffy hanger on around and Will certainly doesn’t need some straight laced traditionalist who likes to golf or whatever rich middle aged men do in their spare time. So, probably, the one time in Central Park, a great story that he has absolutely no one to tell about, and that’s that.

“I’d thought to have you for dinner.” Hannibal’s voice murmurs in his ear, breaking him out of his thoughts and he laughs against the mouth, pinches fingers into skin. The voice isn’t bad either, unusual, if not interesting.

“Well.” Open mouthed kisses along cheeks, flushed red, the damn heat not letting up, not that they’re helping, blood, fire in his veins. “I guess we can both agree this is better. Maybe back to the hotel though...” His legs curl tighter around the outside of Hannibal’s thighs, back arching. 

Hannibal hums some kind of agreement, or maybe not, but Will grins, enjoys the fingers curling around his thighs, pressing up. 

Or maybe more to the story after all, but he’s pretty sure you’re not invited.


End file.
